


Musical Frisson

by MantisandtheMoonDragon



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Drabble Collection, Drama & Romance, F/M, Gen, Implied Child Abuse, Interspecies Relationship(s), It's hard to tag this, Mental Instability, Multi, Possibly just a general series for GOTG, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suggestive Themes, Team as Family, Teratophilia, bc WHY NOT?, not sure yet - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 03:44:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13627911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MantisandtheMoonDragon/pseuds/MantisandtheMoonDragon
Summary: One-Shots and Drabbles for Romantis and the GotG team/more Au ideas.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Romantis and domestic prompt 1...I can see them walking around a shop and Rocket knows exactly what he needs but Mantis is convinced this thing is a deal you can't miss.

Mantis had gasped at the first thing she saw, and that was right when they’d passed the sliding doors at their first destination. Rocket knew right then that this had been a mistake, asking Mantis to come with him to help get supplies they could stock before their next mission. 

She’d skipped right on over to what Quill might’ve referred to as an ‘ice cream’ stand and had pressed her hands against the cold glass separating her from the frozen treats before turning those big, beguiling eyes to Rocket. Consequently, the raccoon was the one with all the units. 

“Flarkin’ capitalism… jeopardizing… disgrace ta society…” 

Rocket had muttered under his breath, but had paid accordingly and felt attacked when those stupid butterflies in his stomach emerged once again as Mantis thanked him sincerely. 

       Thank the stars, however, he’d wrangled her into following him stopping for another detour while they went from store to store. They were nearly at the end of their spree when, amid all of her ‘ooh’ing’ and ‘ahh’ing’, Mantis fell behind once again. 

“Mantis, would ya keep up?” Rocket asked, squaring up his shoulders as he tried to keep his attention on the data pad in his paws and not at the blatant stares from every corner of the strip mall. 

“But look, this is on sale!” Mantis chirped. 

Rocket sighed, but turned around and walked to where she was ogling. It wasn’t the kind of store that he’d imagined Mantis to be interested in - even if it was colorful and full of a million and one bottle-sized distractions. 

“You wan’ us to buy pills? Why d’ya need,” Rocket squinted at the enormous holograph with a too-large, too-bright ‘SALE!’ sign blinking at them. “Elefino supplements, those ‘r for…” 

His ears flattened as he realized just what they were being marketed. He was, for once, completely speechless. 

Rocket floundered, no longer restraining himself from making a scene. “Wh - what the hell do you wanna buy those for???” 

“They are on sale!” Mantis pressed. She pointed at the sign for emphasis, but Rocket was sure he was going combust. They weren’t ready for the kind of thing that called for  _aphrodisiacs_. **HELL** , they hadn’t even talked about anything remotely related to that subject! 

There was no way Mantis actually knew what this was - if she did, then Rocket was in for an existential crisis, or a stroke. Had Ego told her more than she let on?!

She blinked after a moment, brow furrowing slightly with thought while he practically short-circuited at her side. 

“Rocket, what does ‘on sale’ mean?” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Romantis Prompt: "I won't let anything hurt you, ever again."

Buyers ran afoul of Brokers and Merchants all the time, anywhere you went in the whole, wide galaxy. However, being accosted by a reedy Broker for more than you were offering, _when you’d already been trying to be civil and strike a reasonable transaction_ , at the business end of a gun was less likely. 

He’d tumbled ungracefully to the floor, and he’d huffed and he’d puffed but Rocket… hadn’t actually done anything. He was so dazed that he legitimately had no qualms about being cradled by Mantis’s uncovered arms, or the (secretly very, very nice) clutching of her small, blemish-free hands on his craggy fur.  If anything, the mechanic lay there limply, entirely consumed by his personal bemusement over what had just occurred. 

The raccoon wasn’t proud of it, but he’d frozen in the moment a thin, pointed needle of a gun barrel was poised at the tip of his nose. He was caught off-guard while his brain tried to make heads or tails of the situation and take back control. But a needle - why of all things?!

“I won’t let anything hurt you…ever again.” Mantis said. Her naturally soft inflection had been traded in for a tone of pure steel, as she spoke sincerely yet venomously. 

It was in high contrast to the sweet, nurturing nuzzles that she snuck in while she could, actions that he would’ve expected and dreaded if he’d had the chance to prepare for them. 

Rocket hadn’t fathomed the changes that would sink into Mantis’s personality and prominence after she’d been unwittingly inducted into their band of freaks. Was it the sparring lessons from Gamora that had spurred this sudden show of power? Was it Quill’s arrogance and jackass-ery that had provided the momentum? Surely, Drax had more than enough tales about combative prowess and how it was used to impress one’s significant others. 

Had it been him alone, defensive and toothy but coming undone as a person would in the company of someone who ached to understand everything? Mantis knew better than anybody what he’d been through in the past.

So it had to be that - that which made him the voice of reason and her the one who shoved the needle away and, with freakish strength befitting her freakish family one and all, lifted the weapon and its wielder before slamming them down and creating a crater of decent size from which the Broker never emerged. 

Rocket cleared his throat, when he stopped being so damn impressed and disturbed.   

“Yeah, yeah.” He patted her hand, still curled in the collar of his jumpsuit. “T-thanks, bug-eyes.” 


	3. Jealous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rocket is lonely and jealous. I sorely missed Romantis.

He’d been finicky about returning to Terra. Even if they intended to go for some sort of vacation, or whatever the hell Quill wanted to call it, Rocket had protested more than usual. 

Peter might’ve had fond memories of the dirt ball, but all Rocket could think of was seeing Groot disappear before his eyes for the second time. 

It wasn’t rational, but Rocket was learning as much. Groot wouldn’t turn to dust as soon as they landed on Earth, and neither would the rest of their family. But seeing someone you cared for die once was more than enough for one lifetime. 

* * *

 

“You sure you don’t wanna come?” Peter quipped. 

Rocket sat criss-cross on the floor of the ship, idly tinkering with a prism-shaped device. Most likely a weapon. He flicked an ear and batted the air dismissively, barely acknowledging Peter’s question. 

“But it’s Disneyland!” 

Rocket bared his teeth. “You’ve said that twelve flarkin’ times already. I don’t know what that is, and I don’t care!” 

Peter’s arms went flying up in dismay - the half-celestial couldn’t take no for an answer even if he tried - but Gamora was already pulling him out the door with a hard look. 

“Peter, he said no. Let’s not waste his time.” Gamora made a show of rolling her eyes then. “We should go find Drax before he steals all the Disney children.” 

They pivoted and were off, looking like a properly weird couple as well they should (after all the shit that went down the last time). And for some reason, Rocket spared a forlorn glance in their direction, feeling deja vu as they departed. 

The feeling didn’t last long. Rocket picked up the sound of footsteps before he could blink. With his ears pulled back, the mechanic’s head swiveled to the opposite side in time to see Mantis appear from the shadows. 

She stared at him with those enormous black eyes and though he wasn’t an empath himself, Rocket understood her default expression was and would always be concern. 

Mantis broke the silence first. “You’re really not coming with us?”  

“Nope.” Rocket shook his head. “Somebody’s gotta keep tabs on the ship, might as well be me.” 

The bug woman bit her lip then, swaying from side to side lightly. Rocket couldn’t stop himself from watching her every move - he’d memorized every tell she had until Mantis was more than a blueprint in his brain. 

That dawning look of worry and sorrow was making his heart rattle as well. 

“But... ya know, I might need a partner ta help me...” Rocket ventured. “...You could stay here... with... well, me... if ya want.” 

Mantis met his gaze and was instantly sporting a charmed smile - soft and sweet and hiding another message that only Rocket understood - but the smile fell off within seconds. 

“I would like to...” She wrung her hands together. “But I...” 

She couldn’t look him in the eye. Mantis didn’t want to ever disappoint anyone, but especially not him. “I wanted to see what it was like, too.” 

The rejection stung deeper than it should’ve - Rocket had opened himself up ever so slowly and had assumed that his personal insecurities would scab over with time and experience. But, no. Being denied, even reluctantly, _hurt_. 

Mantis inhaled gently. “Peter is so excited to go. And he said that I would enjoy it very much. I... I believe him and...” 

The tension built up relatively quickly. 

Then, Rocket snorted derisively, and gave her the same apathetic dismissal. 

“Well, have fun with Stardork then.” 

This time, Rocket avoided eye contact. He felt the woman’s enormous eyes trained on him but in that moment, it was done. Mantis couldn’t spit out the words and Rocket was falling back to a sour disposition that had never fled him.

Perhaps an hour had passed, or only a few minutes, but she was gone with only a quiet “ok” and Rocket found himself all alone again. 

Rocket’s exterior remained calm and composed at first, but anger quickly welled within the pit of his stomach. Anger at Peter for making them return to this shithole, anger at Peter for trying to drag them around when it was unwanted, anger at the rest of the team for complying so readily. 

Anger at Mantis for embracing it. Anger at her for leaving him... when he wanted her to stay. 

Rocket dropped the prism haphazardly, and stared at the floor until he could no longer focus on it. He’d gotten so used to having the bug around to help him that, like with Groot, it was hard to accept that she wouldn’t always be there. She might want to explore without him. 

 _‘But she’s supposed to be with me.’_ Rocket thought. 

For a moment the thought was clear and all-encompassing. A single thought that might’ve mutated and grown into a stranglehold - but though he drowned it out with the unbearable sound of screeching metal, Rocket remembered the thought. The feeling that lingered behind it. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW/Romantis. I don't know I just wanted to post something. Interspecies implications.

The tips of her antennae were glowing so brightly that it had become blinding. Rocket’s head practically dove into the crook of her neck as his movements became wild spasms. Faintly he could hear her gasp and scream and he felt her body writhing beneath his, but the rest of it was like an out-of-body experience.

           

He was still high when he asked. “You okay?”

 

His tone was oddly temperate, soft.

 

            Mantis’s fingers brushed over the gristly hair on his arms and his chest, taking time to smooth him down, before she finally looked at him and reached out to place her hands at Rocket’s temples.

            “I’m okay.” She said meekly. “Are you okay?”

 

“Psh. Yeah, fine.” Rocket rolled his eyes playfully, attempting to hide the fact that he’d just had one of the best rides of his life. “Still don’t know what the hell all the fuss is about.”

 

Mantis laughed softly, head ducking down toward her chest. She was used to Rocket’s off-handedness by now. “Neither do I.”

 

            “For real?” Rocket spluttered, he was subconsciously leaning into her hands to feel them on his face. “Did I hurt ya? You were – ya know, I liked you, when you – ! I don’ know if I was, er, good – “

 

            “I am joking!” Mantis cried, her hands cupped Rocket’s cheeks and she leaned upward to kiss him. He let her, closing his eyes in silent relief.

 

            When she broke away she looked no less worried, eyes wide with apprehension. “I thought we were both joking.”

 

“You don’t gotta follow my lead.” Rocket said, moving so that he was no longer entirely on top of her. He was uncharacteristically exhausted. “I was bein’ a dick. You know.”

 

            “I know.” Mantis teased after a quiet moment, in which time Rocket had moved to bury his face in her neck. That, he could still do. Rocket’s brows shot up as he raised his head to stare at her.

 

            “Hey!”

 

She giggled, hands wandering again to rest on Rocket’s bicep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a really really really hard time writing smut that flows and contains all the details. I grew red in the face just writing this.


	5. 119. Wrath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW: Gore, Suicide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is indulgent. I wanted to get it out of my system, because I'm in a terrible place at the moment.

  1. Wrath



 

Sometimes the things that made you needed to be punish. Vengeance was the only thing that could sustain you, and it was all determined upon how well you tore yourself apart.

 

Sometimes, they’d spoken to him. Treated him like a person and taught him Basic and shapes and numbers. Nowadays he didn’t give a damn if it was impressive how much he progressed in such little time, but there was that inkling from the past. When he’d been new and wanted to see behind their thick spectacles and blank masks.  

 

            “Rocket?”

 

The silence trails behind her words, questioning in the thick darkness between them. He’d been so frantic that he’d swiped at the fuse box and eliminated the power in his compartment. Mantis was getting wiser, however, and her feelers were aglow within moments.

 

She asked again, when the silence didn’t waver. “Rocket?”

 

One particular step forward and her foot was off the ground. Mantis startled, peering down as her arms rose into a ready pose. She looked and saw that the floor was darker than it should be, just in one spot.

            Mantis hesitated, something in her chest clenching as she slowly realized what it was. Still, she squatted down to give herself a better picture. Her breath shook.

 

            Light always absorbed in her black holes for eyes, and as her head snapped up to look at him, Rocket felt he might flinch.

 

His maw hung open, but words came so slowly. Unnatural. Guttural. “Tried - my arm got all messed up. Tried to fix it. I can fix it. Just…”

 

His functioning eye closed. “Then everything else got all -”

 

            Mantis’s expression turned to one of horror as she drew near. Her fear and shock made everything else irrelevant, including personal space.

 

Rocket was leaning heavily against the wall while seated upon a tarp of an awning. He held one detached arm in the other, bearing a dark and grey knob that must have been bone. His eye hung down from its socket on the left-hand side and everywhere lay newly grooved and deep scratches. He hid his back, but the wall was sticky and darker than the tarp it dripped onto.

 

Mantis fell back as though he were a monster. Her face newly drenched in tears.

 

“Drax.” She called. “Drax! Gamora!”

 

Rocket couldn’t find the strength to lift his head up and slumped back even farther. The sound of her running away grew faint.

 

            “Please help! Somebody please! Drax! Help us!”

 

_Help us, help us… sometimes they’d said that too. Rocket didn’t feel like helping them anymore, being a testament to their insanity. Existence was one big mess… he didn’t have that long of a lifespan anyway._


	6. Obligatory Mistletoe Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt from my friend. It's December so :3

“How do you know that this is the time to celebrate this holiday?” Drax asked bluntly. Blunt as ever. 

Peter’s goofy smile never faded, not while he untangled a set of asteroid lights from a bag; the last, totally legal, purchase he’d made on one of those touristy trap planets. “I don’t know it, man. I just feel it.” 

Drax’s head tilted. He watched Peter attempt to straighten out the lights without lifting a finger to help. He had no idea as to why Quill would go to the trouble of actually buying such tiny, fragile things that weren’t necessary. The electrical system in their new ship worked just fine. 

“That makes no sense”. He said after a pause. 

His eyes lit up as he came one step closer to finally decorating the Quadrant. It was the last remnant of the Eclector, or it might as well have been. The cord of lights stretched out like a firehose as Peter undid the trickiest knot. He grinned, but Drax wasn’t finished. The hulking red and green (naturally festive, Peter snickered internally) Destroyer shuffled closer, then all but followed Peter like a duckling as he walked about the main hull and eyed the walls. 

He closed one eye, then squinted at the exit dead center. The almighty Starlord had initially gotten lights to put up on the exterior of the ship. Doing so would’ve been more reminiscent of when Peter and his family had driven around neighborhoods far outside of boondocks of Bonne Terre. Out to where nice clusters of suburban homes with the most colorful and sparkling displays in the world.

        And yet, his idea had been shot down as soon as he’d opened his mouth. Rocket had gone as far as to thwack Peter upside the head, baring his teeth over how idiot that idea was. Who knows what a bunch of ridiculous blinking lights all over their ship would attract? 

He’d conceded, begrudgingly. Nonetheless, Peter had gotten his way in terms of just being able to decorate  _someplace_. And outside of his own room, even. So, not bad. 

“ _Do not_  step on ‘em.” He approached the doorway while glancing back at his companion. 

“Is it a metaphor?” Drax asked, a second after the words left Peter’s mouth. Quill did a double-take, his brow twisted in sheer confusion. 

“What? No. Why?” He shook his head. “I’m trying to hang these up and I don’t want you to walk all over ‘em. You’ll break them. I don’t know how that sounds anything like a -” 

“Are you saying a metaphor?” Drax clarified. 

He folded his arms, still set on staring at Peter as he turned his back and began draping his decorations over steely hooks. 

“Huh?” He gently took some of the - high voltage - string between his teeth while securing another rung. “No... well, I guess it kinda does, actually. Not a metaphor though, more a - figure of speech.” 

The silence beckoned Quill’s explanation further. 

“Um, I mean Earth time and Standard time aren’t all that different, unless you count the distances between planets and how time fluid in different parts of the universe. But who really thinks about that?” 

Peter went on, having covered the doorway with plenty of string to spare. “I mean it’s been a while, but my birthday was like two months ago and that’s about the time when Christmas comes.”

Starlord pulled a few more magnetic hooks from his jacket pocket and started positioning them so that they spread out from the doorway like wings. “I’m pretty confident that my brain is wired for it, anyway. Happens to all kids pretty much instantly.” 

Drax waited, mouth open. “...” 

“No, Drax.” Peter sighed, quietly banging his head against the wall. “Not literally wired.” 

Despite being all by his lonesome in it, Peter had done a fantastic job, if you asked him. There were sparse decorations outside of the deck; but then that was probably for the best. Quill would get less complaints about how tacky their home was, for sure.

            Aside from the sparse array of string lights and fuzzy yellow and white worm carcasses - which, for the half-human’s peace of mind, were not to be referred to as carcasses ever again - hung like tinsel, it was the deck that shown the most. And it was fairly fitting, as Peter had the distinct memory of Christmas being less about Jesus and more just about family. He warmed at the fact that everyone would have to gather in their common area at some point, and that they would all be together one way or another. He kept it secret, but found himself smiling at the sight of his handiwork.

Tinsel hung in rungs from the ceiling while asteroid-shaped lights pulsated on every side. There were clumsily made red ribbons tied to the back of their seats, and on a few levers at the control panel. Even mistletoe, a tradition that he’d only vaguely remember, hung up in the center of the entryway.

Peter had even gone the extra mile and encouraged Groot, the one most excited at the prospect of Christmas, to help him at least draw pictures of festive stuff that hung crookedly from one wall to the other.

They were beautiful - even if Groot had misinterpreted a lot of what Peter had said when he’d described elves and Santa Claus. Said iconic figures barely looked correct, but far be it from Peter to tell Groot that Santa wasn’t a Badoon with a trash bag… or that reindeer weren’t also made out of wood and leaves.

* * *

 

 

“Santa Claus?” Drax spoke up. “... He sounds like a fool.”

Peter gulped down another cup of hard cider, and stared at Drax over the brim. “Why?”

            It had taken days after everything was set up, but they were altogether now. Sort of. Peter sat in the captain’s chair while Kraglin and Drax flanked him. Gamora was busy on the other end of the ship, saying she’d be back soon - and it was clear to everyone that her goal being so detached was to call Nebula.

Mantis, their newest member, was somewhere below. She tended to wander after the first few weeks of being with the guardians, growing more and more comfortable with her new surroundings with time.

And Rocket and Groot were… well, who the hell knows. Peter’s vision was getting a bit fuzzy from just three glasses of the Abraxas he’d stolen to celebrate.  

“Why would he choose to deliver presents to offspring that are not his own? And on one night? Why not the entire year on Earth?”

Peter’s eyes rolled. “Uh, cause it’s a nice thing to do. And, because that’s - how - it works. The end.”  

God, his answers for things were even less intelligible than usual. Peter grimaced at his own behavior, then inhaled the rest of his drink three seconds later.

Their conversation died down and it was almost… Peaceful. Peter spun in his chair slowly by pushing off the floor with his feet. He spun easily, despite his slumped position. The rotation was actually making his eyes droop…    

“Santa Claus…” Drax muttered.

            “Yeah?” Peter rounded back. Too quick. The room kept spinning as he stilled.

His friend shrugged. “It’s a stupid name.”

Peter scoffed, but said not another word as Kraglin straightened in his seat. “Hi, miss Mantis. You wanna join us?”

            Like magic, as soon as Peter turned to face the entryway, he saw the telltale pale face of Mantis springing from the darkness. She materialized from the dim hallway, framed by its lights with an wondrous expression on her face.

            “Downstairs is so beautiful.” She stated. Her eyes climbed up to frame above her, where brilliant light danced across her vision. “But it is even more beautiful up here! So many more lights”

            Peter nodded smugly before cringing. Kraglin had him by the back of the collar without a moment’s notice. “Pete.”

“What?”

“We said nothin’ goes past the hallway.” The older Ravager shook Peter roughly like a hound dog. “This here is enough!”

            “Ow! Ah, okay! Look, most of it is up here!” He said. “I got a little carried away in some places, but it’s not that much!”

His fellow Ravager just sighed. “If Cap’n were here, he’d tan your hide. Hang up your entrails like them there tinsel.”

            “Psh.” Peter waved the morbid threats away. He waved away the memory of Yondu Udonta as well, for the pain of losing him still stung and Peter found, during his alone time, that just the Centaurian’s name could make his eyes well up.

Empty threats were a tradition though. Peter remembered Christmases on the Ravager ship - when he’d been able to keep at least one decoration in the captain’s quarters after Yondu had loomed over him enough.

            “Peter?” Mantis spoke up. She was touching a very particular plant delicately. “What is this for?”

Suddenly, Drax was shouting. The sound made them all jump in place, faces turning in his direction simultaneously. “Mantis is under the Toadflaxe!” 

“Mistletoe!” Peter cried. “Where the hell are you getting toadflaxe from?!”

In an instant, the man’s eyes rounded into dinner plates, and whipped back to see a blurry outline of the mistletoe overhead. “Wait! Shit! I forgot all about that!” 

He pouted. “Gamora probably won’t be back for a while, will she?” 

“Doubt she’d put up with your pathetic attempt even if she was here.” Rocket scorned. He came through to lean against the exit frame to look at their ‘leader’ with mock pity. The raccoon was being obvious in his attempts at steering clear of the woman at his side, never focusing on her.

Although it could get annoying, Peter had eventually come to terms with the fact that Rocket wasn’t keen on Mantis. He didn’t know what had started it, but if he were being honest, Peter could believe that Rocket was just picking fights. Their newest member was one of the gentlest people that Peter had ever met, especially if she and Drax were separated.

She was just plain sweet. Creepy, but sweet.

            A sudden burst of laughter from Drax made them all jump in place, faces turning in his direction simultaneously. “Rocket is now underneath it!”

His barks of laughter flooded the room, while the rest of them slowly turned over the realization. “Now you have to kiss! It’s the law!”

And if Peter were still sober, he would’ve totally honored that tenuous fact.

            Instead, he nodded recklessly

            Rocket looked spooked for a second, then whirled on them both. “What the hell ‘r you talking about?”

“It’s just what Drax said. The ‘law’ at Christmas is,” Peter laughed without care, trying to hide his snorting in the crook of his elbow, “you gotta kiss the person next to you - on the lips - under the mistletoe, or else.”

“Or else what, d-bag?” Rocket scowled.

“Or else…”

Peter hiccupped. The cider sloshed in his glass, but he couldn’t help shaking, failing to control a belly laugh at that one split-second of mortification that Rocket hadn’t been able to hide. 

“Or else we shave you! In your sleep.” Peter nodded to himself while Rocket gave a fake laugh.

“Yeah, just try it.” He said. “You’d be dead in seconds, Quill.”

“Not when you’re asleep.”

            “It aint’t gonna happen. Not even after the galaxy gets destroyed.” Rocket taunted. “You don’t have the guts.”

Peter’s face was placid. He took a measured sip of his cider and gestured. “Oh you can try and act tough. You can try to hide. But the longer you stay awake, the more tired you’ll be. And you ain’t immune to sleep, little buddy.”

Rocket’s claws were out and his shoulders were tense. It should’ve been enough of a warning.

It wasn’t.

“And when you finally pass out, it’s gonna happen.” Peter smiled. “I’ll remember it. You know I will. And you know I know all your hiding places in this shit - ship.”

He amended his words with a burp. But while Quill was clearly drunk out of his mind, Rocket knew he wasn’t bluffing. The calm in his eyes was too disturbing.

“What else should we do?” StarLord looked between Drax and Kraglin. “Acc-according to the law, we can do however much we want to the loser. Well, coward, really. Only chickens are scared a’ kisses.”

Tufts of fur stuck up as though the air were crackling with static from the back of Rocket’s neck. He was standing there, taking this. Why was he taking this?!

            “If you honestly think I’m gonna follow the law - your backwards Terran law - you’ve gotta have some real issues, Quill.”

Peter clicked his tongue, making a bizarre clucking sound and dragging his bullshit out. The noise would’ve been irritating had Rocket been in a good mood, but…

Kraglin spoke thoughtfully. “We could spray-paint him. Maybe red, or yellow? You’d look nice in yellow, Rocky.”

            “Oooh!” Peter said. “I like that!”

“Hah!” Drax began laughing again, and couldn’t stop. The boom of it was enough to give Rocket a headache, along with the suggestions being thrown between two ex-ravager morons.

Despite his resolve, Rocket couldn’t take it. “That’s it! I’m done! **Enough!** ”

Hellfire was in his eyes when Rocket ground out. “You’re gonna eat your words, dickhead.”

The mechanic turned to face his doorway companion. “Bug lady.”

Mantis started at his commanding tone. She’d been clueless during the argument, but by the end of it, her blissful lack of awareness saved her from any indignation over Rocket’s ire. 

The raccoon often looked the way he did now - snarling and vicious and cute as ever. And he often avoided meeting her eyes, as he was trying to now, too. 

“You wan’ us to get you a steppin’ stool?” Kraglin cracked. His cheeks tended to tint sky blue when he held back hard laughter. He was no better than Quill. “Pretty sure there’s one in the back from when Pete was younger.” 

A growl came from deep within Rocket’s diaphragm, fists curling as he fought not to look at the space hick. He waited for his anger to come back down to a volatile simmer

Peter was dancing in his chair. “It’s gotta be on the lips, guys!” 

“Heard ya the first time!” Rocket yelled. A part of him knew that giving them any reaction was all they wanted… but he couldn’t help choosing vibrant anger to the nervousness building in his stomach.

            On the flipside, Mantis stood there and stare. She was smiling gently, though the tweak between her brows let him know that she was confused, at the very least. Any recrimination over her being in on this sick prank was snuffed out as Rocket sighed.

The mechanic motioned for his teammate to move in closer. And despite her confusion, Mantis easily obeyed. She drew near, and the cheapy lights above them bounced off of her suit and reflected back into her eyes without effort. The effect was somewhat distracting; coloring her dark, unblinking irises with little bits of red and blue.

            “Ok, that’s enough.” He stopped her, claws out like a barrier. “Bend down a little so we can get this over with.”

Rocket refused to let his height keep him from doing things his way, and he knew Mantis was too stupidly accommodating to question it. Though her smile had slipped at the glint of his nails, she still followed through.

            It was a marvel, really, to have his space assaulted and to not instantly attack the invader. But then, if he attacked, Rocket would never hear the end of it, and he’d surely be put in one of those ‘time-out’ zones for a long, long time.

Inhaling deeply, Rocket pushed forward and forced their mouths together. He’d caught Mantis by surprise, but trying to forewarn her would’ve been like pulling teeth since he was sure that she still had no clue what was going on.

            Speaking of teeth, he and Mantis managed to clack together. It couldn’t be helped considering their facial features, but he’d put them into a slightly opened-mouth position. Her breath was filtering into his maw and vice versa, and his move to close his lips only drew the bug woman in further.

Rocket snapped back, head rearing to disconnect from Mantis. He couldn’t see his own expression, but he got a good view of his associate’s face. Her cheeks were drowning in neon green. Her antenna had become stalks, tall and straight and glowing, toward the ceiling while her eyes became impossibly wider.

Drax was howling with laughter when it began to turn into heaving. “It’s hilarious but disgusting at the same time!”  

Disgusting. She was disgusted with him. To be fair, what they’d done was disgusting. Yet, Rocket felt his anger returning, morphing with embarrassment as he drunk in the sight.

            Mantis was frozen, still leaning forward. She very slowly returned to an upright position, one hand grazing over her thin lips in the shape of an ‘o’. Mantis did not heave, did not spit, nor did she run away in revulsion. She remained there, trying to process the moment prior, with a radiant face.

Meanwhile, the Destroyer began to hack, and beside him, Quill returned his attention the scene after idling at filling his cup again. He gave them an easy thumbs-up while his insides became ticklish and the room began to burn bright orange. He was a lightweight, but telling anyone that would’ve stripped him of his right as Captain. And that was basically social suicide.

Purposeful footfalls sounded from outside the room before Gamora was standing just outside with her hands on her hips.

“Is Drax dying?” She looked nonplussed at the possibility. Her gaze flicked toward the giant of an alien while he buckled in his seat, positioned to nose-dive into the ground.

“Hey, Gamora!” Peter flapped his arm around like a child, presumably waving. “No way! We’re just havin’ fun! More fun now that you’re here!”

He tried to rise from the seat, but couldn’t muster the energy and slumped further down, and Gamora, though she opened her mouth to say something, thought it better to ignore his flushed features and goofy grin. Instead, she moved through the walkway to get to Drax; past Mantis and Rocket, the latter of which was already backing away from his previous spot.

            Their assassin took it from there. All eyes were on her as she pounded Drax’s back as if to beat the cough right out of him.

“Mantis,” She eventually called. “Come and help me calm him down.”

            The insectoid girl scuttled to the side, moving quickly with one hand out and ready. She touched his bald head and in an instant, Drax was immobilized. By that, he literally dropped to the floor unconscious.

Soft snores emanated from the Destroyer before Gamora essentially shrugged, silently deciding the situation resolved. At the opposite side of the room, Rocket shifted to press his back against the cool paneling behind him.  

Any minute now, Gamora was gonna rope him into babysitting Quill, and for once, Rocket didn’t care. He’d literally do anything to get away from Mantis’s constant gaze, he’d decided; not once registering the hypocrisy of his own lengthy glances in her direction.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, this series may just be a practice drabble series or something to occasionally add to when I'm feeling in the mood. Some of it relates back to other fics of mine and some are just random, unrelated ideas. Enjoy.


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